“Maybe he just needed to go out and get his head clear.” But Shanks didn’t sound like he believed

it.

“There’s nothing we can do now.” Christophe’s hands dangled loosely by his side, but his entire

body shouted, Ready to move. “Please, Dru. Inside is better. Especially this close to dark.”

“You can’t smell him?” I tried not to sound like I was begging Shanks.

“Enough to know he came this way. That’s all. He could have just brushed up against it, but he can

see in the dark. Like we can.”

I let out a deep, frustrated sigh. Heard footsteps in the distance, and was that Leon calling my

name? I guess you really can’t go anywhere in the Schola without being watched.

Who had been watching me all this time? What hadn’t I seen?

“Fine.” But I stuffed the strip of material in my pants pocket. When I had some time to think I could

probably figure something out.

Come and find me.

It wouldn’t be the first time I’d found someone with just a scrap of cloth. Once you have that physical link, it’s the easiest type of finding.

I let Christophe lead the way out of the stand of trees. The sun was heading for the horizon, disappearing behind buildings.

Time for a Trial.

Jealousy

CHAPTER THIRTY

In the very center of the Schola Prima’s main building, the one all the wings come off of like

they’re a spider hugging its web, is a huge open space with a glass roof. I say glass roof when what

I really mean is a dome big enough to host a Deep South gun show underneath, made of huge glass

panels webbed with stone supports. It was probably a marvel of architecture, but it looked like it

might come crashing down at any moment. The space underneath it was stone-floored, except for

long runners of dusty red rugs. A high dais in the center held seven iron chairs, three on either side

flanking a huge confection of spikes and a big red cushion, hung with swathes of crimson silk.

Two guesses whose that is, and the first one don’t count. Hot bile crawled up my throat. I shuffled

along behind Christophe, Leon right behind me, and kept my head down, glancing up in quick

spurts.

The wide spaces were filling up with djamphir, most of them older. The younger ones trickled in

and stood near the back, and I saw one or two wulfen lingering near the exits. They were gone as

soon as I looked twice, craning my neck.

The chairs faced south, and in front of them, set to the left, was a sort of enclosure. Waist-high railings of dark antique wood, carved with crosses and hearts, marched in a square around hard pew

benches. Christophe opened a little gate-thingie and pointed me in with a half-bow. “If you please,

skowroneczko moja. Stay here.”